I'm Dreaming Of A Black Christmas
by Nova Super
Summary: It's December 25th, 1968. The family is gathered, with a few extras on the side. Christmas had always run smoothly as long as Druella was in charge, now she's met her match in the revenge of her eldest daughter. This time the occasion may not be as perfect as usual, an unexpected guest, a ruined dinner, meaty shoes and a discussion on farting. It's all going down this Dec 25th.
1. Christmas At Grimmauld Place

_An amusing little tale about how I envision one of Druella's Christmases._

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**Christmas At The Black's**

It was often a socially sordid event come Christmas time for the Black family. Everyone sharing a fraction of blood with Druella Black was hauled by their ears to dinner at Grimmauld Place. No exceptions. If you were on that invite list you were bloody well there or you might aswell burn yourself off the tapestry. Everyone knew the procedure. Turn up by yourself or with an acceptable date between 6:00 pm and 6:15 pm, bring a bottle of wine that's been brewing, forgotten in your cellar since last December and a card and presents for anyone under the age of 10 years. Dinner is always served at 7:30 pm, card giving among the adults occurs at 9 pm, whereas the children open their presents together in the parlour once everyone has arrived.

One year, however, it would be quite different. It was the year of '68, a thick snow had shrouded all of London in glistening white-ness, twinkling under the ominous glow from tinsel-dressed lamp posts. The time was 7:33 pm, the stars were out and the moon was full but unseen from the road behind the tall, terraced houses of Grimmauld Place. The evening, thus far, had run as usual, much to dear, Druella Black's enthusiastic delight. Around the table sat a mish-mash of family members, four different surnames but blood interlinking them all. The Rosiers: Rosier Senior and Evan. The Blacks: Cygnus III and Druella, their three children; Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa and then of course Walburga and Orion with their sons, Sirius and Regulus. The Malfoys had attended for two years and they were present this year also, Lucius with his father, Abraxas. And the last family was a new addition. The Lestrange men were herded together for Christmas dinner since the recent marriage between Bellatrix and Rodolphus only a few months earlier, that Summer. Their was several bets going around for an announcement based on the fulfillment of Bellatrix's womb.

It was eerily quiet. The scraping of knives and forks working at the dry turkey that was drowned in way too much watery gravy. The vegetables ranged from over-cooked to near-raw, the wine was corked, the stuffing tasted of cotton wool. Sat at the head of table, Druella had just sawn through her first piece of meat, mashed some vegetables onto the fork and brought it to her thin, wrinkly lips. Disaster. The squeal of her chair against the floorboards, a flourish of expensive black robes and the witch was gone from the room. Bellatrix smirked and all eyes were on her while she played with the food on her plate. Then the screeching began in the next room and she looked up with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"What did you do?" Rodolphus growled through his teeth, glaring at her from the seat beside her. Bella just shrugged. Narcissa caught her oldest sister's eye across the table and began to turn a shade of crimson.

"Bella... the pudding, please tell me that frosting you asked me to put on it wasn't-"

"Quiet, Cissy," Bellatrix snapped with a warning glare.

Walburga didn't know what to say. She was utterly joyous that for once her sister's perfect Christmas dinner was the complete resemblance of rocks, mush and mouldy onions. To hide her smile she barked at Regulus for putting peas up his nose. Cygnus sat at the other end of the table looking rather bored, he smiled weakly at Abraxas Malfoy as he listened to his wife's foul language at the house elves. He rose silently, like a hunting predator.

"If you'll excuse me," he muttered to nobody in particular. He clapped Bellatrix round the back of her head as he passed as she giggled into her stale wine. She spluttered and shot him the evils into his back. The cursing got louder when Cygnus went next door.

"Incompetent little fuckers!" Druella screamed, something else smashed. And people wondered where Bellatrix got her anger issues...

"So, Andromeda," Walburga began, knowing that this would only rub more salt in the wound for her sister. "Have you found a possible suitor yet, dear?"

"No, auntie. So far, I haven't been courted by anyone I'm not already vaguely related to," Andromeda gritted her teeth with a falsely polite answer as she mocked their whole status.

"That's enough from you," Bellatrix spat, her eyes flashed at her younger sibling. "You ought to be doing our race proud, Andy. Instead you hang around with all those shitty mudbloods, fingering yourself to keep amused-"

"What's fingering?" Regulus piped up, at 7 he was still clueless about certain terminologies...

"It's where you-"

"That's enough, thank you, Bellatrix," Walburga interrupted, picking up her glass of wine and then replacing it on the table, recalling the earlier foul taste. Narcissa was looking at Lucius apologetically as he sat there looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Bellatrix, come through here, please," Cygnus stuck his head around the corner. She groaned in protest, dragging her feet as she made her way next door to the kitchen.

"It was you, wasn't it!?" Druella screeched.

"You didn't _really_ expect me to not get my revenge, did you? I wasn't gonna marry that prick without getting back at you - and for you to tell everyone a grandchild looks likely is down-right fucking stupid, mother!"

Walburga laughed once and then covered her face. Everyone looked down at the failed dinner with solemn expression as the conversation next door continued so loudly half the street would hear it if it weren't for the muffliato charms surrounding the house.

"So, Lucius. Are you doing anything nice on New Year's Eve?" Narcissa addressed her crush of two years as she heaped some mushy substance together on her fork.

"I believe father and I will be attending the get-together at the Crabbe's."

Andromeda made a noise like vomiting and Narcissa shot her a dirty look. Next door the cussing continued.

"You're a fat, naked hypogriff arse!"

"It's a wonder that mutt of a boy _did_ marry you! You're that useless at everything Bellatrix and when he realises that, you're screwed!"

"At least I didn't marry my own cousin, you hypocritical cow!"

"Shut up now - the both of you!" That was Cygnus. The argument went silent and when Druella returned she looked rather flustered, her neat bun had gone lop-sided and much of her hair had fallen out of place.

"Can I get anyone anything?"

There was a unison of head-shakes as Lady of the manor took her seat back at the head of the table. Rodolphus was making a point of sawing the meat with all his might, just to piss off his mother-in-law after blatantly calling him a mutt.

"Thank you for dinner, auntie," Evan Rosier looked up from his empty dinner plate with a charming smile as he folded his hands in his lap. Druella looked confused and after a moment of suspicion she sighed and nodded in his direction. Bellatrix re-entered the room and paused as she approached her seat, staring at her cousin's feet in confusion.

"Did you shit in your shoes?"

"What?" Evan half-turned.

"You've got brown stuff in your shoes," Bellatrix gestured, Evan shook his head.

"Na, it's dinner,"

"You great prat, why did you do that?"

"I needed some insoles - the turkey was the perfect shape and the mush made it more comfy," the boy explained, at only a few years younger than Bellatrix, it was clear the innocence was a façade. Druella shook her head in dismay, resting her tired head in her hands. The doorbell rang and the Black matriarch looked up with agitation scrawled across her face at an unannounced visitor.

"Cygnus, dear." she trilled without enough positivity to come across as convincing. "Would you get the door please?"

Cygnus gruffed as he stalked back through the dining room and stiffly walked into the hallway to answer.

"Cygnus!" Came a loud, booming voice.

"Father, what are you doing here?"

Druella inwardly groaned. Pollux Black was never on the list, simply because he was drab and boring and always made inappropriate comments that somewhat spoilt the atmosphere. Without answering his son's question, Pollux, a tall, slightly rounded fellow entered the house and came into the dining room with a cheery grin.

"Evening all, well isn't this nice?" He took his boy's seat, putting down a bottle of whiskey. He took the nearest wine-glass, gave it a sniff and poured the contents onto the dinner plate, pouring the glass full with golden liquor. Cygnus closed the door and pulled up a chair beside Druella.

"Now, I tell you," Pollux said, taking a gulp from his glass. "This is the coldest December I have known in thirteen years. I know that because my bollocks haven't felt this tight since 1955," he farted and then chuckled. Druella was staring at him with her mouth hanging open in utter awe of his disgraceful manners.

"Pollux, do you think you could pardon yourself?" she spat.

"Eh?"

"Evan, take that stuff out your shoes," Walburga said.

"Why?" Evan frowned, crossing his arms.

"I said, do you think you could excuse yourself when you disrespect yourself like that?" Druella repeated.

"Because I said so," Walburga argued with her nephew.

Bellatrix had begun to hum, tapping her fork on the table while it was full of sloppy mashed pumpkin. Rosier Senior had begun to snore, dribble gathering at the edge of his mouth as it slipped down his chin.

"You know, Drew, I think you'd like this story," Druella visibly cringed at the vile nickname her father-in-law had appointed her. "Back in the war, I was talking to this doctor of the twelfth regiment and we got talking about the anatomy of wind in the body..."

"Evan, take it out your shoes!"

"Why should he if it's making his feet more comfortable?" Sirius asked his mother.

"Don't you start, young man," Walburga snapped. Evan took his shoes off and put them on the table, shovelling the dinner back out onto his plate. Bellatrix's humming became singing.

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle, a bitch eats dragon turd tonight,"

"Evan don't put it on the table!"

"...And it really is a curious thing, the way farts are created. Often they smell like what you've eaten because, well, let me give you an example, if you ate some frog bellies, then..."

"I don't care about farts and frog bellies, Pollux!" Druella screeched.

"So, Andromeda what was that about not wanting a husband? Don't you think keeping a pure race is more important above all else?" Orion had remained quiet so far but struck up conversation with his niece out of curiosity for following generations.

"I think other things should come before that, Uncle Orion,"

"Where else do you want me to put it?" Evan complained as he replaced his shoes.

"In the jungle, the quiet jungle, Druella puts sticks up her fanny tonight," Bellatrix's singing became yelling above the conflicting conversations, she rose out of her chair and stood a top it.

"Bellatrix, what are you doing?" Rodolphus frowned. "Get down!" He tugged on her sleeve but she pulled the finger on him.

"I don't care where you put it, Evan, just not on the table!"

It didn't normally go this way at Christmas dinner for the Black family. Normally it was a simple, typical pureblood affair. Social interactions and the opportunity for worthless gossip was usually all the occasion was worth. Not this time, the Christmas of '68 kicked off badly when Druella Black upset her eldest to the point where she made the decision to invade dinner. During the yelling and shouting and singing, Abraxas and Lucius left undetected. Rosier Senior finally woke up and excused himself and Evan when he discovered his son's shoe situation. Rabastan and Frederick Lestrange scarpered when Druella heard Bellatrix involving her in a new rendition of 'Dancing Queen' turned from 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine' to 'Druella Queen, can't seem to keep her arsehole clean'.

Pollux was still talking more to himself than anyone, Walburga only stayed to watch her sister crumble, Narcissa was whingeing over Lucius having left and Andromeda and Sirius were ensuing a food fight. Cygnus had resorted to drink, having dug out one of the untampered bottles, he was quite happy in a corner drinking himself into oblivion.

"Damn it, Bellatrix. Like sabotaging my dinner wasn't enough. Now you're gonna get it!" Druella howled, rising out of her chair. Bellatrix mounted the table with a delirious cackle.

"Bellatrix, please," Rodolphus said, quietly, slightly embarrassed by her behaviour.

"Get down now before I do it myself!" Druella screamed.

"Make me!"

Druella unsheathed her wand but Bellatrix had her stuped first. The older witch was fuming, she climbed on top of the table, about to duel when quite unexpectedly, Regulus shouted, "Does anyone know when Santa gets here?"

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_Reviews are appreciated :)_

_T x  
_


	2. Druella Queen

_This is Bellatrix's version of Dancign Queen, rudely modified to fit her mother. :P_

_Any fans of ABBA may believe i've shat all over one of their classics but really I only mean to have laugh.  
_

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**Druella Queen, By Bellatrix Lestrange  
**

You can hump, you can grind, thrusting with all of your might,

Oo-oh, see that witch, cast that spell, she's gonna always smell.

Friday night, Cygnus is gettin' low,

Look downstairs - "Oh, she needs a mow."

Whiping out the new razors, starting to tidy up,

Would rather watch two girls, one cup.

Druella's startin' to feel bit shy,

She's rather old, her pubes need a dye.

With a bit of mood music, everything is fine,

You're in the mood for a shag...

And when Cygnus mounts his hag,

The witch is a dancing queen, old and green, way past seventy.

Druella queen, cannot seem to keep her arsehole clean,

She can hump, she can grind, thrusting with all of her might,

See that witch, cast her spell, her fanny will always smell.

She's a teaser she plays with herself,

Takes two minutes, she falls off the shelf.

Looking out for a fucker, anyone will do,

She's set on Pollux Black,

And when he throws his head back - he farts.

Druella's the whoreing queen,

There's not a penis where she hasn't been.

Druella queen, always down on her knobbly knees,

She is Druella queen, old and green and fucking any-thing.

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_Reviews would be loved. When it's actually Christmas I'll do a special edition of a Malfoy christmas._

_T x  
_


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